


poems and writing

by lost_in_coma



Category: No Fandom
Genre: M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:01:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27803479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lost_in_coma/pseuds/lost_in_coma
Summary: original writing. mostly inspired by songs.
Kudos: 1





	1. -1 ; plane crash

**Author's Note:**

> I uploaded this on wattpad a few days ago......actaully i think it was yesterday.... I'll put it here too, ig.  
> wrote this after listening to Nevermind (Nirvana) in full. (note: not for the first time... definitely not for the first time /srs)
> 
> tw the words: killing myself, blood, kill/killed, murder, die, death, stabbing, mutilate, bones, cyanide, whore, surgery, hate crime  
> tw: talk of cannibalism, 1 mention of bulimic actions, talk of eating bones

pink pink pink pink black black black red yellow orange blue yellow

if every cloud in the sky is made of water, why do they all taste like city waste ?

thank you ma'am, i'll gladly take your words, let them soak through the skin and dissolve the bad parts. words words words words words, but if i'll be fucking honest, i would much rather eat your bones.

what do you mean, disgust? bones and words aren't that different. bones are made of words, actually, protein, calcium, collagen. or maybe tendons and ligaments, i never payed attention in 89374579th grade, you see. that doesn't make sense? why, of course it doesn't, simple-boned people such as yourself never passed 4588735rd grade, and without that, you would never understand. 

hey, hey, don't leave, i was only killing myself. i still have to eat your palindromes and every other syllable in your body. why don't you entertain me for a while? that's what you're here for, isn't it? the gaze of men and that whore down the street? 

she's quite pretty, actually. what a shame that I had to go and eat her father. i was actually planning on using her for something, but she proved to be a conniving little bitch, just the same as everyone else on this measly planet.

oh really? you're not? what makes you think that? oh, the cats you starve to death, the semiprecious gems you break your teeth on, the cyanide you used to dye your hair? no, no, I see what you mean, you're not like everyone else, you're special. you have your own thoughts and feelings that no one has ever felt before, right? you're just so unique, no one else could ever compare?

you're so right, and i'm, i'm so in love with you now . that's what you wanted to hear, right? the man of your dreams, tall, dark, scary, confessing his love to you, the girl who "isn't like the others". we fall madly in love, run away to france, and fuck until I am mysteriously murdered. you then take your own life, relieving yourself of the agony of the loss, cranberry blood staining your antique carpets, the oakwood coffee table, all the pedigreed dogs. your parents don't know how to feel, for they have always hated you, yet the loss of their only child, dear, sweet, precious Juliet, leaves them feeling empty inside. they wish they had had more time, appreciated their whore of a daughter more. but of course, it's too late now, that terrible man has stolen you.

what do you mean, i'm crazy? be more specific. deranged, wacko, simply lost it? do you mean you're scared? or are you saying you hate how the story ends? send the author angry letters about how the ending ruined your life and how you can't stop stabbing yourself. i'm sure he'll love that. why don't you tell him how much this book means to you, how it hurt you, how much you want to mutilate his body until he changes it. 

everyone will always be dead. the companies are just trying new layouts. oh, did they not tell you? did they shelter you, and never let you in on the secret? well, i hate to be the one you burst your dirty, misshapen bubble (not really, i actually quite enjoy it), but he's not real. what do you mean, who? are you fucking stupid? who else would i be talking about? no. figure it out.

anyways, did they at least tell you the other thing? you know, the other thing. it that a no? man, what are they teaching you guys these days? how to perform minor brain and heart surgery? that's only necessary if you're eligible for a hate crime. 

i guess i'll have to tell you myself. everyone here is going to die... you know what i'm fucking talking about, don't give me that shit. everyone on the plane, you stupid bitch... did they really teach you nothing? 

so, how does it feel to be responsible for the death of 237.9182345891234 people & longue chairs? that's a nice number, really rolls off the tongue. oh, you don't think so? well, it doesn't really matter what you think. I could probably guess what you say to pretty much anything. like i said, everyone is the same. just another person to stab you in the back, the front, the side, the top, the bottom, the shin. 

oh wait, yeah, you're, uh, what was it, uh, dammit, fuck, yeahyeahyeah, you're uh, you're "different". yeah, we already established that, in our constitution of constrictions. yeah, you're "different" and "interesting", right? are those the write cookie cutters? did I spell that write?

hey! who said you could care about the 2389.93874981238943214980437091823481392 people hurtling towards the atlanticpacifichawaiianasiaticindianmotherfuckingbitchalaskan ocean? the ocean will be happy to swallow them. i've heard rumours that this breed takes good, but i haven't tried it myself. what about you? 

oh yeah, I forgot, you don't eat. you just inhale your stupid 4 chords and go make yourself throw them up later, when no one's watching. I told you, you're all the same!

how far through are we? 3 pages of sketchbook? sounds about right. what's a page, you may ask? why, it's a unit of how many people are leaving, all at the same time. but, isn't that something, isn't it. I'll admit, murder loses it's illegal, scandalous charm after a few monologues. don't your hands get tired, dismembering all those people? 

people? some of them are hardly even people. some of them are envious of what i have, i call those recipients... others... what the fuck is a person? nothing that i care. people aren't real. there's only animals, animals who have killed each other, and people who aren't from here, immigrants, maybe.

and of course, i like to think i simply don't exist, because it's easier. forever is quite a long time.

HEY, JULIET, WAKE UP ! what do you mean, you're dead? what do you mean, you hate me? we've only been down here a few years. the coral really starts to grow on you, don't you think? yeah, what you think doesn't matter anyways, you're just as drunk as every other flight attendant. you're just upset that you didn't get the rose.

haha, yes, this is your c-c-c-c-captain speaking, helloooo. i'm bored with all of you, can you tell? anyways, flight 3-fucking-70, we'll be taking a short emergency landing at the bottom of the ocean, never to be heard from again.


	2. 1; without it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> original writing <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uploaded this yesterday on wattpad.....
> 
> written after listening to, uh, just random punkish stuff, some nirvana, some mindless self indulgence 
> 
> tw:  
> words having to do with: hurting yourself, taking your own life & others', end of life, the red stuff, that stuff you can be addicted to  
> mentions/talk of: assault, victims, k**ling people, fitting into society, cannibalism

magenta, turquoise, maroon, lime, fuchsia, coral, peppermint, nutmeg, olive

if everything is made up of the same atoms, why am i worth so much less than you?

it's about you, maybe it's not. wouldn't fucking matter either way, right?

i'll never give into you, though.

do you ever want to die so bad that you get that certain pain in your chest? and the cuts on your arms and legs start talking to you? reciting the poems you wrote half a year ago? the long love story you wrote, poured your soul into, only to realize it's all garbage? 

and the pain, the pain you were feeling, it consumed you so wholeheartedly that the only thing that really mattered was getting this thing down on paper? did you make it all the things you wanted, your perfect love scenario, the background bloody, bloody bloodyblooddlodldo ldolddbloodlbloddllodlddbloodldobldodlbldolbodoobldobldod.

why does blood mean so much to you people? it's only water, salt, protein. it's not that special. it's just plasma. isn't that what you were meant to believe?what if.... what if i all of a sudden i stopped using question marks. do you like that. is it edgy enough for you. everything is a sentence. you can never stop dying. maybe it's true, that quote. that favorite quote of mine. "we're all dying aren't we? all the husbands and all the wives. every minute. and we're not teaching each other what we really know, are we?" so the game is, are you dying along with them? are you joining their party, accepting your death? will the rest ever start living?

oh shit, i used question marks again. i can never keep any goals like that. i'm too fucking weak.

are you seeing the pattern here? the (1). design decoration motif marking ornament ornamentation device figure (2.) sample specimen swatch

and, how are you feeling about my complete lack of proper capitalization? i kind of like it, actually... or sometimes, i feel like it's a trap i can't escape now that i've started it, and if i do use it right, then i'll be letting someone down, as if everything has to be the same or it isn't any good.

yes, no, no, yes, good job, you made the connection between what i just fucking said and drug addiction, the pressure, but no, i'm not stupid enough to poison myself and my brain like that, unlike you.... all you think about it drugs now, they've already gotten your mind. i warned you, but did you listen? no. and now there's no going back. i'll see you at the midway point. . .. ... . . . . . . .. ...... . . . .. .. . 

man, this is really boring, i'm completely out of ideas. do you have any? oh, fuck you. you know i meant other than that. will you ever talk about something else? ...  
... don't say that.

but, have you ever considered that maybe when you inhale, you feel pressure in your chest because. . .. fuck, i forgot what i was going to say. that doesn't really happen to me much. . .. . 

but really, . . . . . do you ever just want to kill everyone who looks at you? rip their stupid smile right off of their face, make them feel a sliver of amount of pain you have? 

really? well, you're notoriously non-violent, that's your whole thing. non-violence.... who ever heard of that? the only real way to get someone to listen to you, or obey you, or cower at your knees. . . . is to scare them. you know, put some terror eyes. then, boom! you have a slave, or a submissive, fearful victim, or a regretful enemy, or . . . . anyone, really. anyone you want. fear does a lot to a person. i love it when their hands start shaking, and they have trouble speaking, completely defenseless... 

the average person is just so unprepared for the worst. because what are the chances? what are the chances that someone is just going to take advantage of you? everyone tells you to be ready, take caution, but what does that even mean? because,, well,, who really knows how to prepare for something you've never experienced? i do suppose you could talk to people who have had something happen to them, but in the moment, you think you're going to remember any of it?yeah, they tell you to carry a weapon with you, learn self defense, but who teaches you to take the mental damage? the trauma that comes after is happens? and when it does..... then, it's too late. 

do you know how many people commit suicide? it's really a lot. and.... know how many have had something happen to them? also a lot. see the correlation? yeah. does any of this make sense? 

is anyone ever going to shut me up? i guess not. i'm probably spilling too many secrets . . . if i dropped dead now, you would know it was all true....and the world is too busy with other things.... more important things..... no one has the time to notice me anymore, not that it bothers me. i would rather be allowed to talk about whatever i want, do whatever i want, kill everyone who argues back. so it's for the best, i suppose. 

and you, you've been listening to everything i have ever said, cutting yourself to the rhythm, loving me, for no reason at all. it's kind of creepy, actually. you looked better when you were by yourself in the ally. made more cash there, too. so why don't you leave me? i've been thinking about leaving myself, actually. not like that, you fucking idiot. leaving myself. hitting the reset button on my personality, building a new one from scratch. really? you've never heard of that? everyone's doing it! everyone who hates themselves, at least. i just don't get it, ellie.... how could you not hate yourself? with a body and a mind like yours, especially. . . . it just doesn't really make sense. pretty much everyone hates themselves now, wants to shoot their head out, slice their veins, bathe in their own blood in a melodramatic manner.... 

i ruined your knife? no, you ruined your own knife..... all the drugs went *horror movie sound effect* straight to your head. they always do. alllllways. i've seen it so many times. more times than you'd like to know. no, don't say that . . . . that's too dramatic. it's all about, like i said earlier, melodrama. did you hear that? m e l o - i - w a n t - t o - d i e . c'mon, it's not that hard. yes, really, you have to, if you want to blend in with that fuck of a crowd. i don't see why you, of all people, would want to, but each to his fucking own, i guess.

how do you like the taste of that choir boy we slaughtered together? yes, yes you fucking did, you did too kill him, the blood's still in your hair, and you're never going to get those stains out of your mattress. .....really, you surprise me. why aren't you proud? most people love the feel of their first real murder, the warmth of your "victim's" blood spreading slowly over everything, dowsing you in a sheet of red, red red red red red. you're just so fucking strange..... 

anyways, what are we going to do with the next few? you got any ideas? hmmm.... how do you feel about just choking them with your bare hands? good ol' fashioned asphyxiation.... you think you'll be up for that, maybe? 

yeah, i can fucking tell you haven't been feeling well.... it's probably the iron, you're not used to it yet.... but it'll get better, soon you'll be able to stomach more than just a few cups.

hey, why are you crying?


	3. 2 ; sharpen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> enjoy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have no idea when i published this to wattpad, i think sometime in december, but i haven't had the chance to re-upload it here until now. <3!!
> 
> tws:  
> words having to do with: m*ld, red stuff, taking your own life & others', m*r*er, being hated
> 
> mentions of: 1 mentions of c*ps, 1 mention of d**d family members, 1 mention of f*re

aquamarine (wow, that's a quite a long one), amber, mauve, pistachio, slate, azure, canary

if all my screaming is just the same thing over and over again, why should i even bother to say it?

it was never about you in the first place, you always came in second. what will it take for you to believe me, to stop fucking asking?

so, are we going to continue where we left off? my hand clasped desperately to yours, knuckles white, our bodies closer than they should be, in the eyes of the church? yeah, the stupid church . . . . they never approve of anything we do anyway. it's like they're trying to get us to kill ourselves. 

yes, i know, that's problematic, don't say that, you're going to get hate mail. a hail of hate mail, if you will. haha. that was terrible, absolutely terrible. . . i really want to go into further detail about how you, like the rest of them, make me feel, but some people i know actually listen to me now. . . . yeah, never thought i'd say that either, actually censoring my shit .....

you're right. i should stop. you're not really ready for that,, not yet, anyways. 

i'm shivering. are you shivering, or are you crying?? can never fucking tell with you, it's too fucking cold in here. what? what?? no, i mean speak fucking louder. our voices gets tangled up in the dreamcatchers. they actually have a purpose, dumbass. to catch the demons!! hey,, don't look scared like that, i was only joking. my hand isn't even small enough to fit through that, even if it was true. they catch bad dreams....

god, it reeks it here. spray the bed with something later, will ya? didn't i tell you about that, when i was explaining everything? about how to dispose of a body? speaking of which, we still have to get rid of him. he won't actually decompose for a while, but it's better to do it earlier, before you have to deal with an unsightly corpse, yknow. god, what a poor kid. jackass set of parents he had, without them he might've had a nice personality. just burn it? yeah,, if we did that, then the smell would never leave. bad incense, speaking from experience. but i like how you're thinking, keep it that way. because, because, it'll leave you heartless and arrested, pinned against the ground, but save you from the pain of caring. sure, i guess i would know. i guess you could say that. not the point, of course. does everything have to be about me? 

so many mindless, rhetorical questions. so many, when will it fucking end ? but, are— you aware of what that little space meant? that,, that little space held so much emotion, you don't fucking know how it— i mean, it? they?????? oh, oh shit, shit, that's a lot of question marks, i have to stop, that's not healthy. stop, stop fucking doubting me, i only hear the bass in all your songs. the number of times they've played it is insanity. 

...are you still thinking about it? it's not important, i told you already. 

what i said last night, forget about it, ok? just forget about it. stop—don't talk like that, it rots your lungs. that wouldn't be fun, and you'd have to find someone else to spread your spores to, because i'd rather not join in. it's not that i don't care, which i don't, but really, i'm not allowed to use- err, what are they called? you know what i mean. right? you're not that stupid; i'm not allowed to use them very much. it's just not a good idea, like i fucking said before. stop asking! you can beat it out of my cold, dead body, pry it out of my throat. i'll never tell. 

tell me, when, exactly, did you stop fitting in their stupid black and white, poorly printed coloring page? when, exactly, did they start hating you? ellie, it's not fair anymore. the more you tell me, —about, about them, fucking dumbass, the more i'll rip out and recycle their throats. it's only necessary. what'd you expect me to do? sit back, listen to you, take it all in, enjoy it? no, that's your fucking job, remember? god, you never learn anything. 

have you always been this much of a downer? stop stuttering, it's annoying. no, i didn't mean it like that, why would i mean it like that? are they getting to you again? don't let them get to you, god, don't let them in. close the gates. do it. know what i mean? just close the gates already. or, no wait, do you still have the key? it that the problem? 

yknow, i've been thinking, and if life is like a box of chocolates, then i'd say people are like sprinkles. small, insignificant, replaceable. your people, at least. disguised as different colors, but always just the same thing, same shape. always the same asshole, just presenting it all differently. sugar, mainly.... and conveniently easy to [break, snap, cut] in half. that was fun, that one time! you should've been there. i could call those the good old days, but that'd probably hurt your feelings. 

do you get it? i really need something to beat the shit out of right now, an outlet to channel all my anger into, blast at 4 am until the neighbors call the exterminator, until the exterminator reports us all for having expired membership cards. i'm just too frustrating, too uncooperative. something like that would never work, an actual system. but you're another slave to it, unfortunately. you don't think you are, but you're fucking blind. brainwashed by those bastards. wow, an alliteration, have i done that before? 

of course. of course you would know. you pay way too much attention to me. when are you going to start getting lost in your own world, pay attention to yourself? unless, your world, like mine, is a terrible place to be, the home in your head. in mine, the wallpaper peels, the pool is deflated, and the salsa is sweet. not enough action. bland narrative. i much prefer more chaos. both of my parents dead, still in their stupid loveseat. or what i like to call it, hateseat. yeah, hateseat is more appropriate. 

that reminds me, you should leave before i kill myself for the 4603rd time. no, i haven't been counting, i just remember everything. lovely, isn't it? but really, you should go, give yourself more time, or you'll regret it when you're born again. i promise it won't be as pretty this time, last week was sort of an accident. what a fucking mess.... but it's art to you, isn't that what you said? the scene of the crime, aesthetically pleasing? i can call it a crime if i fucking want, the english language is too strict for anything else. 

sorry, i didn't mean it like that, it's not the language, just the words that were cut out in the editing process. that's what matters, right? not the words, but the useless ones that were kept? the space between the notes? 

fuck, that pressure in my chest again. i would breathe, but that would just make the blood in my lungs spill everywhere, and i rather like this shirt as it is.


	4. 3 ; melting, denial

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uploaded to wattpad uhhh.. i think a week or two ago? idk   
> words having to do with: svck7/abv5!ve families and tr4vm4, being found d34d, satan, suicide,   
> escaping your problems, fun3r4ls 
> 
> mentions of: 1 mention of sk4rz, 1 mention of being st4b3d

so, there's nothing i could ever do to change the way you think about me? i really have to be a stain on your mind? sure, you could bleach it, but it's too expensive for lowlife (such as yourself) to afford. of course, not that they'd give it to you. it's reserved for only the most rich and untraumatized. that stupid store said they'd call you back when you made it to the top, right? yeah, maybe, but she says that to everyone. you really thought that they knew that sort of thing? who would actually survive, and the rest of us, who'll have their body found in a ditch by some kid running after a ball?

man, what i'd give to be found in a ditch. well, preferably not found, but that's not the point.

wouldn't that be a lovely way to be forgotten? to the public, the corpse they found lying facedown by the side of the road, to your family, the embarrassment. and with the country in this condition, i doubt they'd even have to come up with an excuse to not hold a funeral. but at that point, it would more be a play than a funeral. acting, to preserve their "good image". if i was in your place, i would rather just be left in the ditch. the bacteria are much more polite and respectful than any member of your so-called family has ever been, and you know it's true. i'm telling you, they deserved it. they deserved all of it. every minute of that ddrraawwnn--oouutt hour. just think of all the damage they inflicted on your soul. all of those memories, all the times that they all treated you like shit. scars like that stick around, build up, and mess up your future lives. you'll have something wrong with you, but you won't know why. it heals, as all things do, but it takes a long time. people who do bad things should be punished, right? that's the general human agreement, am i wrong? so, going by those set of rules, doesn't that just make this rightful punishment? wow, it's like i'm playing satan. punished and stuck on earth, punishing someone else. hah, yeah, appropriate. but he's kind of an ass, actually, at least from what i've seen. and i know i'm really supposed to hate him, for sticking me here, but i'm sort of starting to accept it, after all these years. obviously, if given the choice, i'd choose to leave. why else would i go to such an effort, at least once a month, to take myself out of existence?.

hope? that one of these times, it'll work? yeah, maybe that's hope. of course, the logical part (by the way, wrong slice of pie) of me is always telling me to just give it up, that it's useless. if i've tried so many times before to no avail, why would it work now? so, i suppose you're right, for once. how old did you say you were again? 18, 19? what a shame. there shouldn't be people like you that young. jesus, times have changed over the last . . . . well, you get the point. but, it's not like there's anything anyone can do to change it. see, everyone is always screaming at other people to fix everything, but it's all just noise. and noise never did much for the suffering, has it. the real problem is that no one wants to be the one to solve the issues, they only wanna be someone living in that imaginary, problem-free world, country, whatever. and even if someone did try to, for whatever heroic reason, one person, or whatever few people they convinced that they could make a "real difference", it'll never succumb to anything. there's just too much,, uh,, whadda they call it,, yyeah,, bad everywhere. too many subjectively-bad people doing objectively-bad things. especially if you tell 'em to stop, they hate that.

hey, don't fucking group me in with them, you know how it is. they aren't driven the same as i am. most of them, at least. who knows how many others there are. and i couldn't just tell anyone and have them believe me. i'm not really too sure you believe me. i get it. there's all sorts of crazies with delusions of grandeur, always have been. too much fantasy media, if you ask me. everyone wants to be the main character these days. there's no one left to remind us of the perks of being a side character, they all faded away with their series(declining viewership). and there's no way to tell if they're lying or not, unless they have some way to prove it (for example, blowing the back of my skull out with a double barrel and complaining about the mess).

a mess. what a mess. i'm just the same as you. jeez, don't get defensive, it's only the truth. and you know you can't run away from it forever. your legs get tired. or, you run out of fuel. whichever comes first. or if you run on an engine(which you clearly don't), you only have till it explodes. lack of maintenance, y'see.

you know i'm right, i'm always right. why would i lie to you? [besides the list of reasons i have to lie to you, why would i lie to you?]. you know i'm far past stupid, empty insults. once you stop denying it, then maybe you can work on it. but the longer you keep blaming me, the worse it's going to get. and i'm not always going to be around to protect you. or, you're not going to be around to make the choice, have the epiphany. but sure, keep pinning everything on me, yelling that i started this, not the people who actually did. now, that's someone you could actually blame. sue them, even. i would offer to represent you, but my license expired quite a long time ago. i thought becoming a lawyer would help protect me legally, and it did, but it was useless against what they did after they lost their cases. angry people, especially when they've lost someone, tend to be particularly violent after being defeaten. being lifeless doesn't mean you don't feel anything. emotionally, oh yeah, i'm nearly there, but my pain tolerance is lower than ever.

it's been quite a while since anything like that happened, though. maybe because there are better, more accessible ways to deal with loss, or because it's more common, or maybe people are more scared. if something like that happened to me, i would certainly be scared of whoever did it. i'd probably hole myself up in my house and fear for my life. the life i had before i went and got my ass killed, that is. i wouldn't even call this a life anymore. just purposeless floating in space, gravitationally attached to a rock. quite poetic, isn't it? romanticizing it makes it easier.

the fact is, no matter how much i whine about it, i'm gonna be stuck here until the end of it all. right until the end, even after humanity has managed to destroy itself. that's right, ellie, you're not going to be around forever. neither am i. you might as well consider it that way, though. as far as you're concerned, i'm immortal. 

hey, how's your stomach? feel better? see, told ya you'd get used to it. everyone eventually does. well, other than that one guy i was with, that one time, he overdid it. yeah, he was always just that kind of idiot. he probably should've listened to me. not that it would matter that much. and with the way he was acting, he was due to go in a few weeks anyways. that kind of person never stops, even when their lives depend on it. which it did, i tell everyone i work with the same thing. don't piss me off.

jesus christ, stop shaking so much. i'm not just gonna pull a knife out of nowhere and stab you, that's barbaric. haven't you noticed that almost everything i do and say is planned and edited? well, wouldn't blame ya, i'm the only one who cares enough about what i say to notice. unless, [meaningless hand gesture] if you know what i mean. 

really? this again? I told you, as long as i'm alive, you'll never get it out of me. understand? cuz it seems like you still don't. seriously, do you actually think that bothering me about it is going to work? god, am i still the same guy from all those years ago? bastards like you drive me fucking insane thinking about that. i yell at some guy to stop bothering me and then go bother myself. the negative energy has to go somewhere, i assume. fill someone's mind. and what better place to go than me, practically a magnet for all sorts of bad things. they used to say that about me. . . before everything. back then, plague and finding people mauled and cut up was more common, so it wasn't unusual for people to just, y'know, disappear, drop dead. now, they did get suspicious when i was the only one left alive out my age group, but that supported their theory that i was some sort of evil demon spawn. ha! i know, right! it was even better then, you should've seen their faces. 

but god, i used to feel so bad about myself. who told them all my secrets, how to get to me? maybe the walls are too thin, but i didn't talk much anyways . . . now that i think about it again, they were probably paying that lady who used to come and talk to me to make me uncomfortable. yyeah... that explains why they would always stare. i still feel so bad about myself, but for other reasons. it's like the rest of me, it never goes away. a stain. good description, right? sure, but your opinion is just as worthless as the rest of em. you're not special, remember? 

god, what'd i tell you?? lay off the fucking meds. give it. give it! no, you're not getting them back. these? gonna land you in the ground faster than i will... fuck. did they not teach you that in school? stay away from drugs, or you'll die!! lose all your friends !! get disowned !! kicked off of the football team !! really, no? or- oh, yeahh... dropout? pfft, yeah, should've expected that. or did they kick you out? some other loser's parents threaten to sue, or something? yes, losers, all of them. all of them. some of em will grow out of it, others,, well, i'll leave it at that. 

oh my god, do you really have nothing to do? nothing better than watch me breathe in smoke? get a hobby, for my sake. you reek of self-hatred. and if i wasn't the same, i would say it was rubbing off on me. what's really rubbing off on me is all that blood_. take a shower, go outside in the rain, either one, i don't care. just be back inside by the time i start mine, you know how it is, i don't wanna wait that long.


End file.
